


Fourth Off Of Zoro

by lastofromance



Category: One Piece
Genre: Don't Judge Me, For the sake of porn!, M/M, PWP with a punchline, Pointless, Sanji can fix this!, So much for table manners, ZoSan - Freeform, Zoro hates chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3880108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastofromance/pseuds/lastofromance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"While Zoro had never had a sweet tooth, Sanji was... Sanji was... he was just so... appetizing. But that was his area of expertise, after all...." ZoSan, PWP, humor</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fourth Off Of Zoro

"Unnn, yes... don’t stop, you bastard...." 

Sanji’s hips rocked in a steady motion, little words, random insults, and pleasured noises falling vague and formless from his smokey, indecent lips as one sugar-sticky hand reached upwards to tangle in the feathery pale locks of his own hair. Beneath him, Zoro answered every movement to the best of his ability, placed in a supine position on his back upon the galley table, thrusting upwards mindlessly into the searing tightness of the cook’s body. A sweetness clung between their lips; a chocolate-flavored passion that had melted over heated skin, slick and moist in the sweats of two bodies as they moved together, luxuriating in the divinity of a slow, languid, late afternoon fuck.

"Ohhh..." Sanji’s small outcry diminished into a silky whimper as his back arched into the sweetest pleasure – it didn’t matter which angle he was taken by, every angle with Zoro was always the _right_ one. For others, it might have been a matter of size, shape, or skill, but Sanji could swear by everything in the world that he held dear that perfect sex had nothing to do with physical characteristics and everything to do with the man himself. Man of his dreams, not quite. Man of action, most definitely. And as far as capable lovers went -- "Oh, hell yes..." Though he'd never admit as much aloud, he couldn't have found a more perfect lover in anyone else, no one else that could satisfy this ridiculous, unrepentant libido. Ultimately gorgeous, strong-willed and strong-bodied, caring and devoted (when he thought Sanji wasn't looking), and, "So good...."

"You’re the one doing all the work, asshole," Zoro pointed out as his hand intervened, encasing Sanji’s arousal with the slick warmth of his grasp. He allowed the rolling motions of the cook’s hips to guide his movements into a steady rhythm of pleasing his lover from both the inside and the out, reveling in his every pathetic little noise as though he were savoring the most divine of all deserts. While Zoro had never had a sweet tooth, Sanji was...

Sanji was... he was just so… _appetizing_. But that _was_ his area of expertise, after all....

And likewise, Zoro’s intermittent, sensual little sounds were much like his weapon of choice – unassuming and quiet, but breathtaking and fierce once truly unleashed. And each deep and resonant moan he surrendered made the fine hairs on the back of Sanji’s neck raise, prickling shivers of gooseflesh over his otherwise pale, smooth skin.

"Does it really matter?" Sanji asked through a breathless sigh, only to be answered by a sly look that tilted the corner of Zoro’s lips into an impish smirk.

In a moments time, the swordsman reversed their positions, wrapping both arms around Sanji’s waist and throwing the weight of his upper body to the side, consequentially knocking the annoying blond onto his back as he loomed over him from above. Zoro’s hair clumped in dark green tangles of sweat and confection as he hoisted himself up upon the heels of his palms beside Sanji’s shoulders and knelt between his long, slender legs. 

"It definitely matters," he said as he gazed downwards intently at his prisoner with the devil's glint in his dark eyes, wearing his best cat-got-the-canary smile.

Sanji had no chance to put those words to question before Zoro shifted his weight once more, one hand guiding his cock into place as he pushed back inside the other man and sank into him in one deep, solid thrust. From there, he picked up a quicker, almost merciless rhythm, sliding Sanji back against the table in every snap of his hips until he was forced to readjust the balance of the weight of his upper body upon one hand – the other cupping around back of Sanji's head to prop it up and away from the wood lest the dumb ass cook suffer a concussion.

Sanji, on the other hand, thought it a bit cute, how Zoro secretly looked after his well being, even as they fucked.

A notion that didn't linger for long, there and gone, as it seemed as though the temperature of the room rose a notch with every quick thrust of Zoro’s hips, setting Sanji’s blood on fire as he suffered to hear the pleased humming of his lover’s voice above his own pathetic cries. 

"I-I... I... Oh, fuck, I stand corrected," he admitted. He didn’t particularly like acknowledging when the swordsman was right, but he could make some exceptions. Especially under such… pleasurable circumstances. It was a lot more fun to see Zoro do all of the work, not to mention how he was rendered completely incapable of disregarding how sexy it was when he flexed his dominant muscle from this vantage. Any other instance, watching that hot body under the sun, bathed in sweat, accidentally erotic as his biceps strained to lift a ludicrous weight over his head, deltoids and pectorals tightening... there were so many ways to hide his longing gaze, but not now, trapped as he was. Zoro was just... so... so _Zoro_ , so heady, so delicious....

"Mmm..." Sanji’s hand reached around the back of Zoro’s neck and pulled him down for a searingly hot kiss, the break in rhythm felt almost akin to a skipped heartbeat until they were able to accommodate for the change in position. Now, not only was Zoro physically perfect in every thinkable aspect, he was a damn good kisser too, even if the exchange was overly sloppy and reckless in a moment of sheer passion. It was a shared sentiment and, likewise, the lack of control was reciprocated. But the kiss didn’t matter so much as kisser, which made it all about physical contact itself; Sanji wanted to be as close as the laws of physical matter would permit and then some. Not to mention that the taste of him was absolutely delectable, salty and sweet.

Zoro’s breath was hot against Sanji’s lips – the kisses became intermittent between gasps for air as the tension rose, drawing to a quick conclusion. Harder, faster, deeper – so much movement broke them away from their fervent exchange until they were left only to cling to each other desperately, panting, gasping, and clawing, needing just that little bit _more_ in them to give.

The scalding heat of their mutual ecstasy at its highest echelons seemingly stripped the world around them into a complete void; there was nothing but the two of them. Nothing else mattered. Only this was important. Moving together, being as one, as though hand in hand and blindly feeling along the dazzling white walls of starlight that colored the backs of eyelids until the pleasure spiked to an apex that brought those same walls crashing down upon the two of them in the same way that Sanji's expression broke into pieces, his expression crumbling at his brow.

Zoro’s groan, breathy, husky, and intense, was drowned out by the hoarse cries of Sanji’s own release that had every fish in the ocean surrounding the ship fleeing in sheer terror for miles.

They flopped together, breathing, spent and exhausted, Sanji laughing over nothing at all in a post-coital bout of euphoria as they listened to the sweet sounds of the early evening coming upon them in the raised voices of their angry, scandalized nakama. Sanji buried his face in the nook of Zoro’s shoulder and allowed the other man to hold him close despite how badly they both were in need of a shower. Indeed, he was a mess. Zoro was a mess. But a sweet mess, and a delicious mess, and so long as Zoro didn’t mind, he didn’t either.

"You have some shit on your nose," Zoro murmured – speaking was a faculty he’d hardly regained. Breathing alone was questionable, at best.

Sanji wiped the offending substance from his face with the tip of his finger, which came back covered in a delicate treat that he immediately popped into his mouth. His eyes rolled back in bliss as he loosed a rather pornographic moan.

Chocolate ganache was _heaven_ and Zoro was _covered_ in it. 

It was only a pity that it was the one sweetness that was almost too rich for his taste buds… almost… just enough that he hadn’t been able to lick it all up and away from the man's body before he’d lost interest in his snack and went straight for his favored entree, _Zoro à votre goût_.

With another soft, pleased sound humming through the back of his throat, he swept another dollop of melty, creamy chocolate from his inner thigh where it had smeared onto him from Zoro’s skin and fed it to the swordsman, cooing softly as his finger was surrounded by a gently circling, teasing wet tongue. 

"It's still disgusting, cook," he murmured, dark eyes catching his own, sexy slits of half-moons that stared in a challenge that they both knew that he could never resist...

"That's too damn bad," Sanji replied silkily, "Because I'm not about to let you waste food."

Because the best thing about his attempts at goading the idiot moss-head into not only eating, but also _appreciating_ his sweets was that the leftovers were just as amazing as the first helping.

 _Yum_.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Because Zoro needs to learn to like chocolate; its good for the soul, its good for sex. Title for this is basically a short version of: "Sanji has his fourth course off of Zoro."


End file.
